


October Glad

by TheWritersCottage



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-bending AU, Occupational Therapist!Aang, Romance, Suspense, Tea Shop Manager!Zuko, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-23 09:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritersCottage/pseuds/TheWritersCottage
Summary: It all started with a Halloween party, then it became so much more.Aang is a charming young man finishing up the last year of his Occupational Therapy master's program. He meets Zuko and his world turns upside down in more ways than he's ready for.Zuko is, by every outward measure, a perfectly normal guy living a perfectly normal life. He works a normal job as a manager at his uncle's tea shop, he has a normal group of friends. He has a perfectly normal family. Or so he likes to tell himself.But when he meets Aang, there are truths Zuko is forced to face after years of denying them. Nothing is more terrifying than the ordeal of being known.
Relationships: Aang/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to version 2.0! Though the ZukAang side of the fandom is quiet (and, I believe, only getting quieter), my desire to contribute to this little corner in a way that is thoughtful and meaningful has compelled me to spend time doing research and plotting out this completely new and improved October Glad.
> 
> If you are reading for the first time — hi! So happy to have you here. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you're a returning reader — welcome back! And thank you for being kind enough to come back to read this rewrite.
> 
> This iteration is my commitment to putting in the time and effort to produce something I hope will be worthwhile for those who are generous enough to give this fic their time. I owe you all that much. Thank you so much for your trust and support.

Zuko never was a huge party guy, but he figured there was no harm in letting loose every now and then. Plus, it was Halloween, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd done anything to celebrate the day.  
  
Sokka, his childhood friend, was the one throwing the shindig. He and his sister had a neat little townhouse in the northwest quadrant of town. It was a long drive across the city, and there was a threatening frost in the air. The trees had already dropped their leaves; their jagged black branches stretching like claws against the darkening sky.  
  
He pulled his charcoal Volkswagen Passat off the main road, driving a few blocks before coming to a roundabout and taking the second exit, a route he could almost drive with his eyes closed.  
  
Of course, Sokka didn't do Halloween by halves. An avid costume lover even outside of the holiday, he had threatened humiliations Zuko knew he would make good on if he didn't dress up. Again, given how long it had been since he'd done anything for Halloween, he had to rack his brain. He knew Sokka wouldn't be satisfied with a simple cape. So when he did figure out what to wear, he had to admit he was pretty impressed with himself.  
  
He was surprised to see the line up of cars parked outside Sokka's place, and he felt his heart sink into his stomach. Not only was Zuko not a party person, he wouldn't call himself a _people_ person either. Though he did currently work a management position at his uncle's tea shop. As much as leadership was the last thing he'd thought he would be cut out for, things had been going pretty well. Still, managing the intricacies of business was not the same as socializing.  
  
Whatever, he'd just drink himself social, he told himself. He could always crash on Sokka's floor if he wanted to avoid driving under the influence.  
  
Zuko checked himself in the rear view mirror; his calavera makeup seemed to have survived the journey. Not wanting to invest in a costume he'd never wear again, Zuko opted for face paint he could give to Sokka after tonight. His face looked so foreign to him under the heavy makeup. His eye sockets were a haunted black, the slight pucker of the scar around his left eye was a noticeable rough texture beneath the paint. Zuko hoped his skin wouldn't be irritated later.  
  
Postponing the inevitable, he took a minute to admire his handiwork - the black lines were stark against the bright white base. The sharp lines on his lips were a convincing rendition of bare teeth, the simple rounded petals framing his sockets were coloured in with crimson red. He'd even gone to the trouble of drawing on a spider's web rising from an elegant v between his eyes and expanding over his forehead. On his cheeks, under each eye, he'd added long downward sloping lines that curled in at their ends. The end of his nose appeared to be a black hollow in the centre of his face. He'd also done his best to draw the likeness of a rose on his chin.

The makeup was really the star of the show, but he'd been sure to use a bit of product in his hair to hold it in an elegant wave across his forehead. An unusual look for him, but it seemed to work.  
  
He took a deep breath and opened the car door to let himself out. With the car locked behind him, he smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the fitted pinstriped suit. He'd borrowed it from Sokka. The attractive crimson of his button up was like a fire in a black and white forest.

He couldn't dawdle forever, so he followed the rhythmic bass of too loud music to its source. He could even feel it rumbling in his chest, and he wondered idly if Sokka was risking a visit from the police later.  
  
Once at the house, Zuko didn't bother knocking. Holding a bottle of gin in one hand, he pushed the door open and winced against the full volume of the music. His ears rang for a moment as he clicked the door closed behind him. He toed off his shoes, leaving them in the already impressive pile.  
  
There were so many people. Zuko counted at least fifteen in the living room — some sitting on the couch, others standing in clusters, yelling to be heard over the music. A few were dancing, and Zuko saw the familiar wolf tail of Sokka's hair as he braided through bodies to greet him. He was dressed like Sherlock Holmes; with the pipe, deer stalker and all.  
  
"Looking good!" Sokka yelled, taking the bottle of gin and leading Zuko through the throng of guests to the kitchen.  
  
The kitchen wasn't much better for available breathing room, but there were less people here. He saw Katara, Sokka's sister, handing a drink back to a guest from the fridge.  
  
"Hey Zuko! Love the look,” she said with a smile. She was dressed as a pirate, a fake parrot pinned to her shoulder.  
  
Zuko nodded, but he was distracted by the stranger she'd just handed the drink to. He was wearing a toga with one shoulder exposed. A leafy crown wrapped around the back of his hairless head and Zuko couldn't help but notice the blue arrow tattoo that started between his brows, sloping over the curve of his head, down his neck and onto his back. The tattoos disappeared under his toga to reappear under his arms around to the top of his forearms all the way down to his hands, where they came to arrowheads. They did the same down his shins, one blue arrowhead over each of his arches.  
  
The stranger noticed him staring and gave a bright smile, offering his free hand in greeting.  
  
"Hey, you look great. I'm Aang. Zuko, was it?"  
  
Zuko nodded dumbly as he took Aang's hand and shook.  
  
"Get this man a gin and tonic, immediately!" Sokka demanded of his sister who rolled her eyes.  
  
"I can get it," Aang offered, "you two get back out to the party."  
  
Sokka waved gratefully as he strode back to the living room, Katara at his heels.  
  
Zuko wasn't expecting to feel so flustered, but Aang was simply the most gorgeous man he'd seen in his life. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a shining creek, smooth grey stones beneath shimmering water. His toga left little to the imagination — Aang had a lean athletic build, his strong shoulders led to elegant sinewy arms, and his calves... god help him.  
  
"Hey, everything alright?" Aang asked, taking a glass from a cupboard and setting it down on the kitchen island.  
  
Feeling his face heat up, Zuko was grateful his blush couldn't be seen under the heavy makeup.  
  
"Oh, yes. Sorry. I- I'm not the best at parties."  
  
Aang laughed — a cheerful, melodious sound.  
  
"I get it. I'm an extrovert, but I have introverted tendencies. If I go missing at any point, you can safely assume I'm hiding in the washroom to recover for a bit."

Zuko smiled in spite of himself.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind."  
  
Done mixing the drink, Aang handed Zuko the glass.  
  
"Thanks. I, uh, don't think I've seen you around before. How do you know Sokka and Katara?" Zuko asked, hoping to forestall their return to the busy living room.  
  
"Oh, I'm their new roommate. Just moved in a couple weeks ago. I met Katara at school.”  
  
“Oh, you’re studying occupational therapy as well?”  
  
Aang nodded, leaning his weight agains the counter. “Yeah. Just one more year before I can graduate and get out there.”  
  
Zuko swallowed down the hope growing in his chest. Aang _lived_ here, at his best friend's house, where Zuko spent a lot of his free time.  
  
He busied himself by taking a sip of the gin and tonic. Though it was a simple concoction, he could swear it tasted sweeter for Aang having fixed it.  
  
"Welcome, then,” Zuko said.  
  
"Thanks! How do you know them?"  
  
Zuko shrugged. "We go way back. I don't even remember meeting Sokka, we've been friends that long."  
  
Aang nods as he twists off the lid to his beer bottle. Zuko notes that it's a winter ale and files this information away for later.  
  
"So what brings you to Calgary of all places?" Zuko asked.  
  
“It was one of the programs I was accepted to. I’d heard Calgary was a little more affordable than Vancouver, so I figured it was a better bet as a poor student. I'm originally from Prince Edward Island."  
  
Zuko's eyebrow quirked in surprise. Aang was a long way from home. His easy friendliness made sense now, however. He was a small town boy who probably grew up knowing the names of every grocery store employee.  
  
"Before you ask, yes, I am a fan of Anne of Green Gables. Basically impossible not to be,” Aang said, a languid grin spreading over his lips.  
  
Zuko smirked, summoning a quote his mother often recited. "I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."  
  
Aang's eyes widened and his grin transformed into a blinding smile. Zuko's heart almost exploded at the sight.  
  
"Exactly!"  
  
It was then Zuko decided he needed to hurry up and stop being awkward. He knocked back his gin and tonic and poured himself another despite Aang’s offer to make it for him, then knocked that back too. Aang was looking at him with something like concern when he met his eyes again.  
  
"Do you dance?" Zuko asked, sounding braver than he felt.  
  
Aang chuckled and nodded. He set his beer down on the counter and took Zuko by the wrist, leading him back into the living room. His touch sent an electric current up Zuko's arm forcing him to suppress a shudder.  
  
Once they were in the middle of the room next to other writhing bodies, Aang expertly moved to the breakneck beats of Istanbul (Not Constantinople). Zuko kept pace, shuffling his weight from foot to foot, rolling his shoulders when appropriate. He let himself watch — and it was impossible not to stare as Aang moved under the low lights; the shadows shifting tantalizingly over his body with every flex and sway. The most overwhelming desire to lean in and press his lips to Aang's neck took over his imagination, and he was only too grateful for his rational brain preventing him from acting on the impulse.

 _It’s just the alcohol_ , he chided himself sensibly.   
  
At the very least the gin was lending him the liquid courage he needed to keep moving like he knew what dancing was. _Elegant flailing_ , Sokka had called it once when he’d tried to dance sober. Zuko still didn’t know what that meant, nor did he care to find out. From that day on he swore he’d never dance unless he was at least buzzed. And in the company of a beautiful stranger, apparently.   
  
So Zuko danced like only Aang was watching. He didn't know if he looked elegant or like he had two left feet, but he didn't care. Aang was dancing with him, and his attention seemed to be going nowhere else. The music carried them into dance after dance, the only indication of time passing seemed to be the growing sheen of sweat on Aang’s skin. Under the blinking strobes from the little dollar store disco ball in the room, Aang’s limbs flashed in highlights of neon pink, blue, green, yellow and eventually Zuko lost track. The rest of the room seemed to fade away until sobriety reared its ugly head to claim him. The two gin and tonics he'd had were wearing off, and he feared, with no small amount of horror, that he'd made a fool of himself in front of Aang. He registers the cloying heat of the other dancing bodies nearby and lightheadedness washes over him.  
  
"I'll be right back,” he shouted over the music and made his way upstairs to the washroom. He was so very relieved to reach the the top of the stairs to find the floor empty of other people. Stepping into the washroom, he flicked the switch. Somehow, his makeup had stood up to the test of his sweat, though his hair was plastered to his forehead.  
  
After combing his fingers through his damp hair in a vain attempt to fix it, Zuko let himself sit on the edge of the bathtub with his arms resting over his knees. Smiling grey eyes haunted his imagination, and he noted the way his heart sped up in his chest. He sighed, letting his head hang so he could study his socks against the screaming blue shag rug. He’d been with Sokka when he’d bought the atrocity. Zuko had made all manner of derisive comments about it, but feeling it underfoot he had to admit it was very soft. Maybe even soft enough to lay on.  
  
With a shrug, Zuko figured, _why not?_ He shimmied out of the pinstripe coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, then he slipped down so his back was resting on the rug. He was forced to bend his knees so he could fit in the small room.

Feeling the claustrophobic pinch of his collar, he unbuttoned himself to the base of his throat, revelling in the cool air settling over him. He laid there a long time, allowing himself to decompress, puzzling over the way his heart still raced at the recent memory of stripes of sky moving gracefully, frantically over shadowed limbs. But most of all, the way he feared he might drown in gleaming pools of crystalline waters pooled over smooth grey stones.  
  
He was startled back to himself when a soft knock came from the other side of the door.  
  
"Hey, sorry,” — speak of the devil — “I just wanted to check to make sure you're alright." It was Aang. "I swear I'm not trying to be a creep, you've just been gone a while."  
  
Zuko's heart leapt into his throat; the sincerity in Aang's voice making his heart balloon against his will.   
  
“Oh, uh, yeah I’m fine.” He suppresses the old man groan that threatens to escape as he creaked to his feet. Twenty-nine and already his skeleton protested a short stay on the floor. Not wanting Aang to think he’d dismissed him, he quickly unlocked the door and swung it open. It took everything he had to keep his eyes from trailing down to the juncture of Aang’s neck and his shoulder.  
  
"I thought I'd take a page out of your book,” he says sheepishly. "The gin wore off and I needed a breather."  
  
Aang considered him for a long while before finally speaking.  
  
"How about a walk? Some fresh air might do you some good. Probably a glass of water too.”  
  
Zuko remembered the crisp bite of autumn, and he realized he wanted nothing more. But Aang wasn't exactly dressed for the weather.  
  
"I'd like to, but you can't go out in that,” he says, gesturing at Aang's toga, making him laugh.  
  
"No, you're probably right. Wait for me by the door. I won't be a minute."  
  
Aang rushes down the stairs and out of sight. Following suit, Zuko begins to descend the stairs himself when Aang's head pops back around the wall.  
  
"Just thought of this — do you have a scarf or a heavier coat with you?"  
  
Zuko shakes his head. He hadn't thought he’d be going on any outdoor excursions that evening. "I should be okay with this."  
  
"Nah, I have spares. I'll grab something for you."  
  
Before Zuko can protest, Aang has disappeared again. He takes the rest of the stairs down to the door and watches the now sleepy guests. The music was turned down to a more acceptable volume, a sure sign the party was winding down. A few people had already left, only a handful of the die hards remain.  
  
"Hey bud, you leaving?" Sokka asks when he sees him standing by the door.  
  
Zuko blushes. "Uh, no, just getting some fresh air."  
  
Sokka's eyebrows wiggle. "With company?"  
  
"Yep, with me,” Aang says cheerfully as he sweeps in from the living room. He'd changed into brown jeans and an orange and yellow tee under a charcoal grey coat. He hands Zuko a glass of water, and Zuko notices the black coat and yellow scarf hanging over his shoulder.  
  
Sokka elbows Zuko and waves as he heads back into the living room, taking a seat between Suki, his girlfriend, and Toph, his other best friend.  
  
Zuko's face is absolutely burning now, and he's sure the heat will melt the makeup off. He chugs the water, Aang trading him the empty glass for the coat and scarf. The coat was a snug fit around his shoulders — Aang was of a slighter build —, then wraps the scarf around his neck before hunting down both his shoes. Soon he's ready, and Aang holds the door open for him to step out into the night.  
  
Aang lets out a quiet little gasp when he sees the light blanket of powdery snow coating the ground. It was still falling.  
  
“Wow," Aang whispered reverently as he stood under the falling flakes, palms outstretched to catch them. Zuko watched him with the same awe Aang watched the snow fall. His slouchy orange toque made Zuko want to reach out and right it.  
  
"Shall we?" Aang asked, breaking from his trance and gesturing to the sidewalk.  
  
"We shall."  
  
They walked in silence at first, and Zuko's mind raced to find something to say.  
  
“So, what else do you do?" he asked vaguely, not quite finding the right words to drum up small talk. He hated small talk, not least of all because he was downright awful at it.  
  
“You mean other than school? I work overnight shifts at a lounge nearby as a bartender. It’s just part-time work, but it helps pay the bills along with my scholarship and student loans.”  
  
They walked for a long time, chatting as they do. Zuko asks Aang a few questions about his life back in Prince Edward Island and about occupational therapy. He gives Aang the insider’s look at The Jasmine Dragon, talking it up just a little to bait the hook he refuses to admit he’s fishing with. Finally, Aang asks him about some of his favourite haunts around the city, eager to learn about trendy places he could visit.  
  
“Actually, there’s this twenties themed speakeasy that’s a pretty well kept secret. Sokka insists it’s the hipster’s hangout,” he says as he shrugs, not really disagreeing. “You have to make a reservation weeks ahead of time, and you can only be inside for an hour and a half to allow for more people to be seated since it's so small. It's hidden behind a secret wall disguised as a bookcase. They serve the best cocktails in Calgary. We don't have a lot of artsy culture to speak of, but Betty Lou’s is one gem we can boast about.”   
  
It was rare that Zuko was able to speak more than a few words at a time to anyone who wasn’t a close friend, but he couldn’t help how relaxed he felt with Aang next to him.  
  
"Sounds amazing. What are the chances of you taking me there?" Aang says with a goofy smile and one raised brow. “Or am I not hipster enough? I could probably find some suspenders somewhere.”  
  
Zuko actually laughs.  
  
“I’d be happy to take you sometime."  
  
So they set the date, exchange contact information and walk back to Sokka and Katara's. It was getting late, and Zuko felt the lucidity of a sober mind sharpening his senses. A few minutes into their walk back to the townhouse, just as they’re crossing the main road leading off the highway, Aang stops dead.  
  
“Did you hear that?” he asks.  
  
Zuko looks in the direction he stands facing, but shakes his head.  
  
“I think… I think there’s something over here.”  
  
Finally Zuko hears it — a few tiny squeaks, almost inaudible. Following the tiny sounds, they’re led to the opposite side of the road, down closer to the highway. Zuko has to suppress a grunt when they see the small unmoving body of a cat sprawled against the sidewalk. It was beginning to petrify, its head thrown back in an uncomfortable arch. Aang bounds over, falling to a crouch over it, and Zuko joins him a moment later. He cranes his neck to find three tiny mewling kittens curled into the cat's stomach.  
  
“Oh no…” Aang breathes.  
  
“They’re so small…” Zuko marvels.  
  
“They can’t be more than a few weeks old,” Aang says gently. “I can’t just leave them here.”  
  
He watches as Aang stands to strip out of his coat, shaping it into a soft little nest against his chest.  
  
“Would you mind calling Sokka or Katara to ask if they’re okay with me bringing these guys back?”   
  
As Aang speaks, Zuko swears he hears his voice catch. He watches as Aang crouches back down next to him, all signs of his smile missing in action. Following his gaze, Zuko looks down at the orphaned kittens suckling fruitlessly, tiny paws clumsily kneading their mother’s cold belly. The sight causes a lump to form in Zuko’s throat.  
  
Without hesitation, Aang reaches down to delicately lift the tiny bodies one at a time into the makeshift carrier cradled in the crook of his arm. Zuko helps by scooping up the last one, and he feels its tiny heart hammering against his palm, its snow-covered body shivering into his warmth.  
  
He’d almost forgotten that Aang had asked him a favour when he finally thought to reply. “Sure, but we should probably get them to a vet first.”  
  
He sees Aang nod. “Of course. I’ll find the nearest clinic and drive them over.”  
  
Taking out his phone, Zuko dials Sokka first, to no answer. No surprise there; he was likely still playing DJ to his remaining party guests. Next he dials Katara, who picks up after the second ring.  
  
“Hey Zuko, everything okay?”   
  
_Bless this woman_ , Zuko thinks affectionately.  
  
“Hey. Everything is fine, but Aang and I just found three orphaned kittens that look really young. Would you and Sokka be okay with us bringing them to the townhouse once we get them checked over by a vet?”  
  
Katara doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course! Let us know if we can do anything.”  
  
“Thanks. We’ll keep you in the loop, but we should be back in a couple hours.”  
  
He hangs up and they start their walk back to the townhouse in strangely heavy silence.   
  
“I can go with you, if you like?” Zuko finds himself offering before he realizes he’s speaking. “I can drive you to the vet’s office and back.”  
  
Aang stumbles over his reply, apparently not expecting the offer. “Oh, sure. It’s a bit late, though. Don’t feel like you have to.”  
  
Looking at Aang now was strange; gone was the easy grin and his confident grace while dancing. He looked so protective of the lives he’d taken responsibility for. He seemed to be so focused on helping them that there was no room for him to think of much else. There was an air of desperation about him that Zuko could almost _feel_. Zuko wanted to help, but Aang _needed_ to.  
  
“I know, but I’d like to help them if I can,” he responds lightly, praying Aang can’t read anything more in his offer. Any excuse to spend more time with him seemed like a good one, though it would be nice if lives didn’t hang in the balance.  
  
Aang gives him a bright smile that’s so warm and genuine, he wonders if he might not be part celestial.  
  
“Thanks Zuko. I’d like the company.”  
  
***  
  
The vet visit took longer than Zuko had anticipated, but three and a half hours later, he was pulling up next to the townhouse with Aang in the passenger seat holding a cardboard box lined with a soft blanket. As they got out of the car, Zuko reached back to grab the bag of bottles and powdered formula. Aang had protested when he covered the cost of the equipment, including a SnuggleSafe heating pad to keep the kittens warm, but Zuko had waved him off. Aang was a student, which was practically synonymous with being broke if you didn’t come from wealthy parents. And Zuko was getting the sense that Aang was paying his own way. Plus, it wasn’t like Zuko didn’t have the money.  
  
They made their way into the townhouse, pushing the unlocked door open to let themselves in. As they emerged into the foyer, they were welcomed by a much emptier entrance. The piles of shoes were gone, and in their place were just a few pairs left over.  
  
“So, let’s see the fluff balls,” Sokka drawls as he rises from the couch after Suki, who offers to take the box from Aang so he can shrug off his coat.  
  
“Oh my god,” she whispers, afraid to scare the huddled bodies. “They’re so cute.”  
  
Aang grins at her and nods. “Aren’t they? The vet said they’re likely just three weeks old.”  
  
“Wait, they’re not even old enough to be weaned, are they?” Suki asks.  
  
Zuko shakes his head. “No, they’re not. Which is why we need to feed them every two to three hours for the next three weeks.”  
  
“Excuse me, what?” Sokka demands, but before he can launch into a tirade, Katara and Toph approach from behind.  
  
“I mean, I work from home, so I could take day shifts,” Toph offers as Katara coos at the kittens in Suki’s arms.  
  
“What? Toph, it took years before you so much as offered to buy me lunch. But you’re offering to feed a bunch of kittens for my new roommate who you just met tonight?”  
  
Toph smirks. “Maybe if you’d rescued some adorable animal from danger I would have treated you sooner. Aang, right?” she says gesturing in Aang’s direction. He goes to nod, then seems to remember she can’t see him.  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
“Right. I like you. I’ll help.”  
  
Sokka makes a strangled indigant sound, and Aang chuckles as a light blush dusts his cheeks. Zuko sees it and feels his heart fall into his stomach.  
  
“I’ll stay and help, too,” he blurts. He almost wants to kick himself for how eager he must seem. He avoids Sokka’s gaze, afraid he might see right through him.  
  
“That works out,” Katara pipes up. “We can take watches. If we split the work into shifts over the course of the nights, we can all get enough sleep.”  
  
Suki kisses Sokka on the cheek as he crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
“Fine. I’ll help, too.” Sokka looks down at the three little bodies that are beginning to stir, and one makes a tiny squeak, though it was impossible to tell which.  
  
“Okay, that _was_ pretty cute,” he admits. “Who’s taking first watch?”  
  
Aang steps forward holding a hand up. “I brought them, so I’ll take first watch.”  
  
“You sure?” Katara asks. “You just spent hours at the vet. I can take first watch if you need some rest.”  
  
Aang shakes his head and holds his arms out for Suki to pass him the box. “I’m feeling pretty wired. Don’t worry.”  
  
“I can help with first watch,” Zuko again finds himself offering. “I helped bring them here. It’s only fair.”  
  
He tries to ignore the way Sokka quirks a brow at him.  
  
The next few minutes were characterized by gentle movement as alarms were set, followed by all parties saying their goodnights. Aang and Zuko took up residence in the kitchen to begin mixing the formula against an increasingly noisy backdrop of hungry squeaking.  
  
Once the formula was ready and measured out according to the weight of each kitten (two tablespoons of formula per four ounces of body weight), Aang and Zuko set up shop on the living room floor leaning against the couch, each holding a tiny body in one hand and a small bottle in the other. The kittens needed very little coaxing after the first few drops, guzzling the milky concoction down with the vengeance of unchecked hunger.  
  
“They’re so small,” Zuko says again as he adjusts his wrist to better cradle the kitten in his hand — the kitten to hand ratio made him think he could be a giant.  
  
“Right? I’m glad they have healthy appetites, at least,” Aang replies as he pulls the bottle back for the kitten to splutter gently; milky drops running down its chin, causing its fur to gather in wet peaks. “Easy there, you’re going to choke if you drink too fast.”  
  
Zuko’s kitten, a little grey tabby, was drinking more steadily, which allowed him to steal glances at Aang as he worked. He couldn’t help but notice the strength of his hands tampered by careful gentleness as he handled the small body, leading the orange tabby’s mouth back to the bottle after it broke for air. Zuko had to force his eyes away from the blue arrow tattoos that ran down his arms, their lines swerving around his elbows and disappearing up his biceps. Which, Zuko tried not to notice, were lean, but well-defined. He tore his gaze back to the grey tabby, who was still suckling contentedly at its bottle, clinging to the cap with its tiny extended claws.  
  
Aang’s kitten finished its formula the soonest. After dabbing away the excess formula with a warm, damp cloth to put the orange tabby down to sleep, Aang scooped up the third kitten — this one had light beige fur with a brown nose and ears — and gently encouraged it to suckle at the third bottle for itself.  
  
The grey tabby finished up the last of its own formula, so Zuko took the same cloth and dipped it in the water they’d boiled. He made sure it wasn’t too hot before cleaning the kitten up and easing it down in the nest of blankets next to its orange sibling. Zuko watched with a small smile as it clumsily adjusted to curl around the orange kitten, squeaking sleepily as it rested its head.  
  
Zuko looked up to find Aang smiling at him, and Zuko smiled back.  
  
“Did you do your own makeup?” Aang asks suddenly. “The details are impressive.”  
  
In all the excitement, Zuko had completely forgotten about the calavera make up, and he felt his skin heat considerably under his collar. It was a wonder the vet hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t even so much as spared him a strange look, and Zuko had to wonder how someone could maintain such professionalism. He could use a few tips.  
  
Absentmindedly hovering his fingers over his face, Zuko shakes his head.  
  
“I don’t know how I forgot,” he says regretfully. “Thank you, yes. This is my own handiwork. All the Japanese calligraphy lessons I endured as a kid were good for that at least.”  
  
“Japanese calligraphy?” Aang asks as he gently adjusts the bottle so it’s at a more comfortable angle for the kitten in his hand, “That’s amazing. Is that your heritage?”  
  
Zuko shrugs at Aang’s enthusiasm, and he ignores the way his uncle’s voice chides him for not accepting the compliment graciously. “Yeah, I’m half Japanese, half Chinese. Second generation kid. My parents moved to Canada and had me here.”  
  
“Does that mean you can speak Japanese and Chinese?”   
  
Zuko sighs heavily as unwelcome memories of painful lessons come back to him.  
  
“I can understand more than I can speak. My mother is from Japan, and she taught me a little Japanese growing up. My dad is Chinese, and he grew up speaking Cantonese. He was always busy when I was a kid, so he didn’t have a lot of time to teach me. And I just wasn’t picking it up fast enough.” In truth, his father hadn’t been the most patient of teachers. His uncle Iroh had tried to intervene with gentle instruction, but by then Zuko had stubbornly given up.   
  
“What about you?” he asks as he reaches over to run a finger down the kitten’s body in Aang's hand, making a point to give the area behind its ears extra attention.  
  
Aang tips the bottle up so the kitten can suckle the last of the formula in the bottle, and he chuckles softly as two tiny paws push the bottle away. After setting down the bottle, he gently pats the kitten’s back to burp it as the vet had directed. Zuko still thought it was strange, and it had been a challenge to know when they had processed the air from the bottle because their burps sounded no different than their regular squeaking.   
  
“I have a sort of similar story,” Aang says as he sets the creature down next to its siblings. “My parents were Tibetan, though I never knew them. I was adopted by Gyatso when I was just a baby. We immigrated to Canada when I was two or three, and I’ve lived in this country ever since.”  
  
“Is Gyatso back in PEI?”  
  
“Ah, no. He died a few years back.” Aang doesn’t look up as he answers, instead looking down into the box of fur balls affectionately.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Thanks. It’s alright. It was hard at first, but time helps.” Aang sweeps up all three empty bottles and Zuko follows the lines of his tattoos with his eyes. “You can ask about them, you know.”  
  
With a sly smile over his shoulder, Aang makes his way to the kitchen to rinse the bottles out as Zuko sits open-mouthed, rooted to the spot as blood rushes to his face.

He supposed Aang had to be accustomed to curious eyes by now, but his uncanny awareness of Zuko’s attention still caught him by surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” Zuko responds, chastened. 

Aang smiles disarmingly at him as he returns from the kitchen. “No apology necessary. I’m happy to tell you about them.”

Letting himself fall onto the couch, he holds out his hands and his bare feet for Zuko to look at guilt-free.

“I got these after Gyatso died. Brain cancer. We caught the tumor before it had grown too large, but the prognosis without surgery would have been a few months. He decided to go under the knife. The doctors warned us that he might not be the same after that, and it was true. His cognitive ability had been permanently affected, and he couldn’t talk very well since the tumor had been pressing on the speech centre in his brain.”

Aang paused, a sad smile on his lips.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m listening if you want to finish telling me,” Zuko offers. Aang’s sadness seemed fresh despite his claim of years gone by.

“Thanks,” he replied as he lowered his arms to rest more comfortably and pulled his legs into a pretzel beneath him. “I cared for him for the next year, and finally he died. That’s when I knew I wanted to become an occupational therapist. Life after his surgery was hard, but being there for him gave me a deep sense of purpose. I decided to get the tattoos as a tribute to him. The arrows remind me to always look forward, and to channel kindness and love into every step I take, every thought I have and every action I perform. I chose blue because it’s a colour associated with healing, sincerity, wisdom, and higher consciousness. Gyatso raised me with Buddhist teachings, and I wanted to take that with me into the future.”

This knowledge felt sacred, now that Zuko knew it. The intimacy of the revelation was unexpected, and Zuko envied how fearlessly Aang held out his heart for Zuko to see.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “for trusting me with that.”

“Thanks for listening.” 

There was a beat of silence wherein the air seemed to transform between them. It was well into the early morning hours; the usual sounds of daytime activity all but gone. All that could be heard was the quietest of snores from the kittens.

A voice that sounded a lot like Sokka’s prattled on insistently in Zuko’s head.

_Ask him out! Ask if he’s single. If he’s into guys?_

“Uh,” Zuko starts awkwardly just as Aang blurts something at the same time. “Sorry, you go first.”

“Oh, I was just… wondering if you had anyone special in your life. Isn’t that what they say to ask about when getting to know someone? Avoid weather and politics. Though I guess I should’ve started by asking if you had any pets.”

Babbling? This was new. Aang had been smooth as a criminal when the night had begun. His sudden nervousness was… endearing. 

“Well, no to both. I’m not seeing anyone, and I don’t have any pets,” he looks over at the grey tabby with a smile, “though I think I might in the near future.” 

Zuko wondered how anyone could ever not get attached to a tiny life once they were resolved to help save it.

“And you?”  
  
“Same answers, down to the possibility of having a pet in the near future. Though it’s going to be hard with my fieldwork placement coming up.”

Suddenly, Aang’s eyes go wide and he gasps. “Oh man, I didn’t even think,” — he smacks a hand to his forehead — “Katara and I are gone for nearly two months starting next week. These kittens are going to need round-the-clock feeding for the next three.”

“I’ll take care of them, it’s alright,” Zuko answers automatically. “Don’t stress about it.”

Aang’s eyes shine with gratitude, and for a moment Zuko worries Aang might shed a few tears. 

“You’re a hero, Zuko. Heck, I could kiss you for this.”

 _I wish you would_ , Zuko finds himself thinking. 

“Not like this you couldn’t,” Zuko says, gesturing to the makeup.

He's surprised when Aang slips to the floor beside him, smiling gently.

“You know, I kept telling myself to play it cool. I think I could have if it weren’t for the kittens,” he says mysteriously.

“Play _what_ cool?” Zuko asks, feeling his heart rate pick up in his chest.

Aang shakes his head and laughs. “I’m being an idiot. Nevermind, really. I’m just excited to be a new cat parent.”

Zuko was fairly sure he knew what Aang had wanted to say, but he feared it might also be wishful thinking. 

“Aang,” he’s appalled to find his mouth moving ahead of his brain, “would you want to go out for a drink sometime? Maybe when you’re back from your placement?”

He’d done it. He’d really done it.

_Oh no._

Aang turned to him with wide grey eyes, and Zuko felt his heart stutter. He’d totally misread the situation, he agonized. Aang wasn’t interested, and he’d blown any chance of this not being awkward.

But then Aang was _beaming._

"I would like nothing more," he says jubilantly. "Just to be clear, are you..." He gestures vaguely as he trails off.

"Asking you on a date?" Zuko provides. "Yes. I am."

Aang suppresses a laugh, trying to keep it down with the whole house sleeping. Zuko finds himself chuckling with him, feeling a combination of elation and downright relief.

When they'd stopped laughing, they turned to look at each other. The moment felt eternal, but neither said anything to break it. Then Aang was leaning in ever so slightly. “Zuko… can I…?”

He was close enough that Zuko could feel the ghost of his breath on his skin.

He _so_ wanted to say yes, but…

“Not like this,” he breathed, then added quickly, “it’ll be a mess.”

Aang sat back, his smile looking apologetic. “Sorry, that was… over eager of me.”

He smiled crookedly at Aang — something he only did when he was relaxed and happy — and waved away his apology. “I want to, believe me. But maybe there’s something to be said for giving it some time.”

Zuko was starting to feel the pull of sleep in his bones, and he contemplated simply crashing on the couch. There was no reason he couldn’t or shouldn’t, but he felt giddy at the prospect of a date with Aang, and he rather liked the idea of savouring the sweetness of this first meeting alone.  
  
“I think I’m going to go,” he said as he rose with a stretch, noting that his backside had fallen asleep after sitting on the floor. 

Aang rose with him and waited by the foyer while Zuko picked out his shoes. When he looked up from pulling them on, Aang was holding out his coat and scarf to him.

“Take them with you. You can give them back on our date,” he said as he held the jacket up for Zuko to slip his arms into. “This way we have to see each other again.”

Zuko feels his expression soften, and he turns to allow Aang to guide his arms into the sleeves. 

“Thanks,” he says as he takes the scarf and ties it around his neck. “Let me know if you need anymore help with the kittens between now and when you leave.”

“Will do, but I think we have all the help we could ask for here. It’s a pretty full house.”

Zuko nods his agreement and opens the door to step out into the chill morning air with his keys jingling in his hand.

“Two months is a long time,” he says, shuffling his feet on the little welcome mat.

Aang leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “It is.”

Fisting Aang’s shirt, Zuko pulls him in for a quick kiss. It’s chaste — a simple press of their lips — then he releases him and steps back. He has to laugh at the black and white smudges that now decorate Aang’s lips and chin.

“Just as you predicted?” Aang’s voice comes out in not much more than a breath and a smile.

“Yes. A mess.”

Aang gives him a smirk, and Zuko responds by lifting his hand in a wave before turning to make his way down the snowy sidewalk to his car.


	2. Priya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Priya and Dr. Leoi on a strangely busy Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: There is no birthing service at the Vancouver General Hospital, but for the purposes of this fic, there is.
> 
> Also, I like to break up shifts in perspective into chapters, so you can expect shorter chapters like this here and there to set the pace and the tone. This is super outside of my area of comfort and expertise, but I'm hoping the research I've done will make these chapters believable enough. Please feel free to point out details I might be missing if you think they might lend themselves to a more immersive reading experience.

Of course five pregnant women would arrive for delivery that Saturday. The hospital was overwhelmed with activity as the limited staff ran to and fro calling or rolling patients into offices and emergency rooms. Things were meant to be quieter on weekends, but that illusion had cracked years ago. 

It wasn’t the five women in labor that was too out of place in and of itself; the alarming part was that they were all in _rapid_ labor, and all on the same day.

This wasn’t the first weekend Priya found herself torn in too many directions trying to help deliver healthy babies while tending to other patients in need of care. Women had babies all the time. Women _didn’t_ just have babies on weekends, but once or twice each month the delivery ward at the Vancouver General Hospital would be full of screaming soon-to-be mothers nearly pushing themselves inside-out as though their lives depended on it — and their lives, and that of their babies, did.

Women in labor also weren’t typically fully dilated just an hour after being admitted, and yet the woman before her was looking ready to have her baby any minute.

The worst part wasn’t even the screaming. The worst part by leagues, was working with Dr. Leoi. Most times he wasn’t present for the uncomplicated deliveries; however, Priya had taken it upon herself to summon him to the room to point out the strangeness of the situation. 

“Why am I here?” Dr. Leoi demanded coldly. “This isn’t an emergency. You and the midwives can handle rapid labor.”

Priya counted to three to keep herself from snapping her reply.

“Doctor, with respect, this is abnormal, don’t you agree?”

Dr. Leoi grunted dismissively. “Hardly.”

“But Doctor, five women-”

Three hurried raps at the door interrupted them, and a harried looking midwife shuffled just past the doorway to alert them to the arrival of another woman in rapid labor suffering from uterine hyperstimulation; her contractions coming too frequently for an easy delivery. 

“Doctor, we’re looking at a reduced heart rate in the baby, and still dropping,” she muttered hurriedly. “We need you for an emergency C-section.”

Dr. Leoi’s expression was unconcerned, breezy even, as he turned steely eyes on the midwife, barely acknowledging her with a curt nod. Then he slid his eyes over to Priya with a light frown.

“That, nurse, is an emergency,” he said it like it was a threat. Then, turning on his heel, he made his way out of the room.

Priya never did like him, but in that moment she imagined what it might be like to punch him. She wasn’t the only one — even online reviews of his services were at least fifty percent complaints about his lack of bedside manner and empathy for patients.

He was in his late middle age, but he was still youthful and slim, with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp jaw. Priya suspected that his outward appearance was carefully maintained — a shiny veneer to mask the emptiness that surely lay just beyond the surface.

It was ironic, if not infuriating, that Dr. Leoi could uphold his sterling reputation for serving his community honourably and diligently (as the awards on his office wall proclaimed) while being one of the most abrasive personalities known in the medical community. He touted his celebrity status in the community like a badge, strutting around the hospital with the pin bearing his title like a free pass to look down his nose at everyone he deemed beneath him. 

The man had so little affect for the work he did that he made everything look calculated and mechanical. In spite of it all, he would more often than not leave a delivery room with a beleaguered mother clinging lovingly to her newborn, often crying in gratitude. The problem was this: _he was good at what he did._

 _Too good to be true,_ Priya thought. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose and counting to ten to calm herself, Priya readied herself for what would surely be another quick and dirty delivery.


	3. Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to my lovely reader who suggested "Adhe" as a last name for Aang. After a bit more consideration, I had to go with it. It has a lovely ring to it, and while the meaning differs depending on which you look at — the one I liked was "very idealistic and generous". And if that's not the perfect last name for our boy, I don't know what is.

Aang had prepared himself for the continuation of his Fieldwork II as best as he could — reading up on student forums giving advice on time management and self-care when under the extreme pressures of unreasonably high expectations. He’d hoped he’d be assigned a clinical instructor who might be less overworked and underpaid, but he’d known it would a long shot working in acute care. 

He’d chosen to take on the challenge with an understanding that the work would be gruelling, but no amount of hypothetical preparation was enough to keep him from feeling the sting of being hurried, shamed and yelled at by his clinical instructor for being too slow or not already knowing absolutely everything. He’d read the warnings from other OT hopefuls, but warnings couldn’t take the edge off his black mood as he listlessly chewed his falafel wrap in the hospital break room.

His only consolation was that he’d have a couple days off soon, which he fully intended to use to explore Vancouver’s ocean side bike paths. 

He tapped out a text to Katara with his free hand; his phone laid out on the table as he swiped his index over the touchscreen's keys.

 **Aang:** First couple weeks of FW II are living up to the horror stories. Might just be the Vancouver General Hospital. Hope your experience is better than mine.

It wasn’t long before his phone buzzed with her reply. Katara was three hours ahead in Montreal, so she was already done for the day.

 **Kat:** Oh Aang, I’m sorry. My FW II is going alright. I’m loving pediatrics. My IC hasn’t bitten my head off yet at least.

Aang smiles ruefully at his screen.

 **Aang:** I’m happy for you. I’m thinking of completing my FW III in pediatrics if this doesn’t pan out. You’ll have to keep me posted.

 **Kat:** I definitely will. Same goes for you. Remember that it’s almost impossible to fail FW II. Just put your best foot forward. We’ve got this. Feel free to call for a rant session if you need it later.

Then, a moment later:

 **Kat:** If Zuko is unavailable, that is ;)

Aang chuckled, feeling his mood improve marginally.

 **Aang:** No one else understands the pain of FW. Still getting to know Zuko. Mostly we talk about kittens.

 **Kat:** Ugh, that’s so cute. Zuko pretends he’s cool, but he melts at the sight of anything small and fluffy. I recommend taking him to feed the ducks in the spring. He’s like a different person around ducklings. 

Aang laughs out loud, then smiles apologetically at the other staff sitting in the break room before typing his reply.

 **Aang:** Thanks for the tip. If we make it that far, I’ll be sure to do that. We haven’t even been on a proper first date. Our status, as of yet, is undefined. Still, I hope we do get there because I literally can’t imagine Zuko being anything but cool.

 **Katara:** Oh trust me, that’s just what he wants you to think. He’s a hopeless softie. You should ask Sokka for some embarrassing stories about him the next time we play Jackbox together.

Jackbox was the collaborative online game they’d all agreed to use to stay in touch while Aang and Katara were away on their respective placements. They’d played once since he’d arrived, and he was quickly learning that the depth of the friendship among Sokka, Katara, Zuko and Toph was almost familial. They shared a common sense of humour, bred of many years of shared experiences and inside jokes that Aang was only just beginning to learn. In a way it made him feel lonely; feeling like the outsider looking in wasn’t unfamiliar to him. 

That night Aang had dreamed of meeting the gang when they were all kids, and he’d been surprised to wake up feeling bereft when he realized it wasn’t reality.

He was brought out of his reverie by the rough crash of a tray against a nearby table as a pretty nurse with brown skin and her black hair tied back into a braided bun dropped into a chair to start eating. The way she tore into her sandwich looked like she might be imagining it was someone’s head. Aang wondered whose it might be, and felt simultaneously grateful that he wasn’t on the receiving end of her ire. 

His alarm marking the end of his break buzzed, and Aang quickly scarfed the rest of his wrap down, following it up with a few gulps of water to make his way back to acute care. He narrowly avoided choking on the last soggy bite as he rushed back. 

Despite putting his life in danger, Wanda, his clinical instructor, still gave him a hard time for not being back a minute earlier. Aang performed his part in their usual song and dance — she berated him, he apologized profusely and promised to do better, and then she tersely dismissed him to continue with his schedule. 

Much of his first two weeks had been spent working with patients about to be discharged from the acute care unit. He would sit with them and their doctor (sometimes with other specialists, depending on the patient's needs) to get an understanding of their condition to then come up with discharge plans. Sometimes that involved moving them to specialized facilities for further care, sometimes it was a matter of noting special equipment a patient would require. Other times it involved planning a home visit to determine the need for assistive technologies along with the education of a caregiver for the best ways to help the patient achieve the highest degree of independence within the parameters of their individual limitations. 

The hardest part was the breakneck pace and high-stress environment of the acute care unit — though Aang arguably had the best end of the deal. Many of the patients he worked with were relieved to be going home. However, there had been one instance when he’d had to offer the addresses of various palliative care facilities to a young woman whose father was dying. She’d taken the piece of paper tearfully, and a moment later Aang had found himself holding her as she sobbed into his shoulder. He'd let her cry until she could speak again, and gave her his contact details in case she needed anything else. 

Today’s load was a breath of fresh air by comparison, though the situation was unfortunate. The patient was a new mother who’d been discharged three days prior after giving birth, but she’d experienced severe tearing that forced her to come back for emergency treatment. 

Aang sat in the small white office with Dr. Tunde and the patient, Gabrielle McInnis, listening carefully and making notes as the doctor spoke.

“I’m afraid I can only recommend surgery for the postpartum trauma,” Tunde explained gently. “In the meantime, Mr. Adhe will be a resource. He'll help you find the best ways to care for yourself until your surgery is booked.”

Gabrielle looked appalled. “Are you serious? I went to an urgent care centre where I was told my tearing was some of the worst they’d seen, and this is all you can do? I can barely use the bathroom! How am I supposed to take care of a baby in my state?”

Dr. Tunde bowed her head in apology, her brows knitting with concern. “The antibiotics prescribed will help prevent infection, and I’ll have you come in for regular check ups to ensure nothing is getting worse. I’ve included a recommendation for stool softeners and pain medication to make using the bathroom less painful.”

Gabrielle, now red-faced, pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose.

“This isn’t right,” she said quietly. “I was never warned that I might tear like this. I couldn’t even feel my lower half.”

The doctor apologized again, but Aang could see something shift in her expression. Before Gabrielle could say more, Tunde excused herself, leaving Aang to finish up his part with the discharge and follow up care plan. After lending Gabrielle a sympathetic ear for a few minutes, Aang was able to get her address for a home review.

“Until I can come take a look at your living situation, I’d recommend wrapping an ice pack in a towel to hold it to your perineal area for swelling. Taking regular sitz baths is a sure way to promote healing — basically you'd just need a basin that fits on a toilet seat and is filled with water for you to soak in — I’ll bring one over with me on the day of the assessment.”

Gabrielle looks nonplussed at the suggestion, but she doesn’t protest.

“You’re also going to want to keep the area clean with warm water,” Aang pulls out a sealed bag with a squeeze bottle in it. “You can use this. To dry, you can pat gently with a sanitary wipe. And make sure you always wipe from front to back to prevent infection.”

Running a hand through her curly red hair, Gabrielle puffs out her round cheeks and expels a loud sigh.

“Well, at least I know I don’t need to wear a catheter,” she shrugs. “I better get going. My husband’s in the waiting room with the baby, and she’s going to need feeding pretty soon.”

Aang helps her stand and guides her out to the waiting room. A man, presumably Gabrielle's husband, was sitting with a baby carrier on the floor next to him. As Aang looks, he sees a swaddled little bundle inside and a splotchy pink face scrunched with sleep looking out at him.

“Your baby girl is beautiful,” Aang says warmly. “What’s her name?”

“This is little Mabel,” Gabrielle says as her husband helpfully hoists the carrier to midriff-level so Aang can stoop to take a closer look. He only bows his head, not wanting to breathe too close to the newborn. The scrunching of her features made it difficult to really tell what face she was making, but Aang watched as extra pinching between her little brow became apparent.

“Yeah, I think she’s getting impatient,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thank you, Adhe was it?”

“Oh, that’s my last name. You can call me Aang.”

Gabrielle smiled at him openly for the first time. “Thank you, Aang. I’ll see you next Monday.”

Aang waved the little family off, then turned to make his way back to the acute care unit.

  
***

By the time Aang was coming through the door of his Air B&B — a garage that’d been converted into a bright little bachelor suite with a full kitchen, complete with a bright yellow smiling planter with a stringy looking plant cascading over the sides like green dreadlocks — it was already dark. He’d done overtime to complete the reports necessary for the day, and not without Wanda chiding him for using inefficient note-taking methods. 

With a groan, he collapses on the cheery blue couch with one arm hanging off the side. 

At least the patients seemed to like him. There was that. 

_You’re still learning_ , he reminds himself. _You’re not supposed to know everything yet._

He might know that logically, but he still felt like a complete failure. After two weeks, Wanda was already wearing him down. He started thinking himself in circles, wondering if he’d be performing better had he put in some extra study time before this placement.

It’s then his phone buzzes in his pocket. Grateful for the distraction, Aang pulls out the device to find a preview of a text from Zuko on his home screen. Feeling his mood improve on the spot, he swipes the lock open to read. When he has the text open, he’s surprised to find that Zuko had texted him multiple times over the last couple hours. Aang had been so elbow-deep in reports that he hadn’t noticed.

 **Zuko:** Hey, would you be free for a call tonight?

Then an hour later:

 **Zuko:** The kittens are doing well. Sokka’s pretty done with having us all in the townhouse.

And the most recent text:

 **Zuko:** Are you alright?

Aang had to laugh at the change in tone of the last message. He also noted the way his chest bloomed with warm affection at Zuko’s request for a call. Outside of the Jackbox session, they’d only texted the last couple weeks.

 **Aang:** Hey! Sorry, I just got home. Long day. I’m alive.

It’s only a moment before his phone buzzes with Zuko’s reply.

 **Zuko:** Sounds rough. Maybe you should get some rest.  
  
 **Aang:** Soon, but I’m up for that call if the offer’s still on the table?

A moment later, Aang's phone rings with a video call request. He stands to flick the light on and plops down into the bar stool by the kitchen island and swipes to answer. At first, he doesn’t know who he’s looking at.

“Hey?” he stumbles through his greeting, accidentally making it a question. 

“Oh. Sorry, I forgot to warn you about the scar.”

It finally dawns on him that the reason he didn’t recognize the face staring back at him was because he hadn’t seen it before. At least, not like this. The only time he’d seen Zuko was in full calavera makeup. The scar Zuko referred to spanned nearly the entire left side of his face — raised and taut red skin pulled tight around his eye up to his hairline, and tapering off midway down his cheek. It was clearly years old.

“What? No, that’s not why I’m- This is the first time I’m really seeing your face.”

It wasn’t the scar that left him struggling to find his words. The simple fact of the matter was that Zuko was… well, he was beautiful. His features were sharp and delicate all at once. His eyes were the same melted honey gold from the night they met, framed by high cheekbones and a v-shaped jaw. 

But really what stole Aang’s words was the way Zuko’s features were arranged — in an expression of unexpected shyness. He looked like he was trying to withdraw, somehow hoping to take back the moment.

“It’s not pretty, I know-”

“Zuko, I’m going to stop you right there. I have spent years volunteering with people of all shapes, sizes and abilities. My entire career is about working with people who have their own permanent scars. There’s nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of. You, and your scar, are…” he hesitates, wondering if it’s too soon. But the way Zuko is avoiding looking up into the camera makes him finish. “beautiful. And I mean that.”

He watches as Zuko’s eyes widen ever so slightly and his face begins to turn a surprising shade of red.

“Uh, tell me about your day,” he says evasively, and Aang has to bite his lip against a laugh. Still, he plays along. They were still in new territory, and the last thing Aang wanted was to scare Zuko away by being too earnest too soon.

So he gives Zuko the summary about his day, and Zuko listens, interjecting with the odd question when Aang accidentally uses OT shorthand or medical jargon he’d neglect to translate to layman’s terms. Zuko seemed genuinely interested in learning about Aang’s fieldwork. He even asked about the difference between Fieldword I and II, inviting Aang to talk about his first placement experience. Their conversation happened so fluidly that Aang was comfortable enough to prop up his phone on the counter to keep talking as he made a late dinner for himself. 

“Wanda reminds me of a terrible chemistry teacher I had back in grade ten,” Zuko says after hearing Aang complain about being yelled at for the better part of the last two weeks. “He kept telling me I was going to be a failure in life. I ended up skipping his classes just to ace the final. You can imagine how that went.”

Aang laughs. “Oof. That’s the best kind of revenge. If only I could skip all of Wanda’s yelling.”

Zuko pauses a moment, leaving silence to stretch between them for almost too long.

“Don’t let her get to you,” he says finally. “You’re capable and intelligent. She’s supposed to be mentoring you, not putting you down for your mistakes. That’s on her, not you.”

Stunned, Aang takes a few moments to process Zuko’s words before he can respond. 

Zuko was as kind as he was beautiful.

“Thank you,” he says gently. “I needed that.”

Zuko gives him a small smile, and maybe, Aang thinks, Zuko was reining in his own earnest nature. How funny that they should both be holding back to avoid scaring each other away.

Then a loud banging noise comes from Zuko’s side of the line, followed by a young girl’s voice.

“Zuzu, c’mon! I want to meet him!”

Zuko rolls his eyes so Aang can see. “That’s Kiyi, my sister.”

Aang watches as the world around Zuko begins to bob with his movement as he goes to open the door to what looked like Sokka’s room. Aang hears the door squeak open and the face of a teenage girl joins Zuko’s in the frame.

“Oh me gosh! You _are_ cute!”

“Kiyi…” Zuko growls in warning.

“What?! It’s true!”

“Who’s watching the kittens?”

“Sokka and Suki, duh.”

Zuko gives her a withering look and Aang bursts out laughing.

“Hey Kiyi, nice to meet you,” he says at last.

Zuko adjusts how he holds his phone so Kiyi doesn’t have to peep over his shoulder to be in the frame.

“Nice to meet you too! It’s only been two weeks, but I already feel like you’re some kind of celebrity. I’ve heard that much about you.”

“Ki, don’t exaggerate.”

“I mean, obviously not from you. You don’t tell me anything. I get all my intel from Sokka.”

Zuko hangs his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“One day I _will_ kill him. I swear it.”

“Anyway! I just wanted to say hi! Can’t wait to meet you in person when you’re back!”

Aang waves and Kiyi skips her way out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

“She’s great,” Aang says with a grin. “I’d want her to be my sister.”

“Try living with her,” Zuko counters, but his smile says he doesn’t mean it. 

A yawn takes Aang without his consent, and he dips his head into the crook of his elbow to muffle it.

“I’ve kept you long enough. I should let you go,” Zuko says remorsefully. 

Fatigue washes over him, and Aang stretches the cramps out of his back and shoulders; the product of hours of stooping over his phone.

“I hate to say it, but yeah. I think I’m ready to turn in. This was great, though. Thanks so much for the call.”

Zuko gives him a crooked smile. “I’d like to do this again soon, if you’re up for it.”

Aang found that his face was starting to hurt with how _much_ he'd been smiling since he and Zuko had started talking.

“I’d like that a lot.”

For a few moments they just sit there listening to the quiet. 

Without explanation, Aang goes to flick the lights off in the kitchen, which shared the same space as the living room, and padded to the bedroom. Laying on the bed, he sighs as he revels in the relief that results from letting his body completely relax for the first time all day.

“I guess I’d better go,” Aang says gently. On screen, his face looks ghostly under the pale blue light.

“Yeah. I should too.”

They went quiet again, this time listening to the sound of each other’s breathing.

“Goodnight Aang.”

Another beat of comfortable silence passes before Aang responds.

“Goodnight Zuko.”

Finally, Zuko hangs up, leaving the call timer to flash as the call disconnects — they’d been talking for over three hours. 

Aang smiles for the umpteenth time, then he sets his phone down on the bedside dresser and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments mean the world ❤️


	4. Cities and Doors

“It’s _finally_ over,” Sokka exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air as they come out of the vet clinic with three fully vaccinated and healthy six-week-old kittens. “We can sleep again.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, adjusting his grip on the carrier as the kittens mewled plaintively from inside. He could see a tiny grey paw reaching through the holes in the side to bat uselessly at the air.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. Whose house did you, Kiyi and Toph just live in for the last two and a half weeks? Mine. Because I have a heart.” He looks down at the disembodied grey paw and frowns. “Although I don’t know how long I would’ve held out if these guys were any younger.”

“If I buy you a drink, will that shut you up?” Zuko half-jokes when they reach the car. 

Sokka frowns deeply with his arms crossed over his chest as he considers.

“Make it a case of beer, and I’ll think about it.”

With the carrier safely secured against the back seat, they climbed into the front.

“Aang’s going to be happy when I tell him,” Zuko says absentmindedly as he turns onto the road leading to the highway.

“Ah, Aang. The man responsible for this whole situation,” Sokka says with a knowing smirk and a sweeping gesture. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s alright. Fieldwork sounds pretty heavy.”

Sometime after Aang left for his fieldwork placement in Vancouver, Zuko had become the person who knew the most about him. He’d only realized to what extent when it was him they asked how Aang was doing. It wasn’t like Zuko was the only one with Aang’s number, but he _was_ the only one who spent hours talking to him nearly every day. He’d been surprised by the easiness with which it happened — the first call lead to a second, and then a third, and so it continued.

“Yeah, I’m very glad I’m done with the university life. Though I do miss drawing on the backs of my exams.”

“I wonder where I’d be if… things had gone differently.”

Sokka’s smile slipped. “Hey, come on. We’ve been over this.”

They had, more than once. Especially while Sokka was completing his degree in urban planning. Zuko had watched Sokka succeed at everything he turned his mind to — high school exams, university applications, then university exams and finally, a degree. On Sokka’s graduation day, everyone he loved had been there.

Everyone but Zuko. It nearly ended their friendship.

The simple truth was that Zuko had been eaten alive by jealousy. Sokka’s success felt like putting all of his own failures under a microscope. Where Sokka had straight As, Zuko had detentions, where Sokka had a ticket to a generous salary, Zuko had found himself given a job at his uncle’s tea shop because no one else would hire him. Things were different then. Zuko was different then; in his teenage years, he’d worn his anger like a suit of armour. Over time, the armour had come off, packed away to be worn only when needed. 

“You could apply now, you know,” Sokka says casually; his tone was purposely cautious, trained after years of blow outs. Zuko hated that he’d been the one to teach Sokka to use it.

“I’m too old,” he replied with an easy smile, hoping to lighten the air settling heavily around them. “I’d be thirty-four by the time I got through a bachelor’s degree, and at least thirty-six if I wanted to get a master’s. I’m doing alright at the tea shop, and I’m not hurting financially thanks to the settlement money.”

The way Sokka was looking at him said everything he didn’t dare to aloud. 

“Sokka, come on,” Zuko pleaded, fighting hard to keep the edge out of his voice.

Sighing mightily, Sokka settled back against the seat keeping his blue eyes on him.

“I just think that you’re holding yourself back,” he says, gesturing widely with his hands. Sokka always used his hands when he talked — the way he did was almost like they were interpreting his words in their own language, punctuating his speech with flicks of the wrist, the whirl of a hand or sweeping in dangerously wide arcs. Those close to Sokka had learned to give him space as he talked, lest they be smacked in the middle of his not infrequent soliloquies. “You’re not too old. Hell, ninety-nine isn’t too old to get a degree. If it’s what you want to do, just do it. You’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

The unwelcome hold of black, tar-like tendrils seemed to coil around Zuko’s heart as his mind provided him with an itemized list of everything he’d ever done wrong or failed to do leading up to his high school graduation. It made him angry. Logically he knew Sokka wasn’t being anything but supportive, but he still had to fight down the years-old heat that seemed to live perpetually coiled in his gut, ready to spring at the sign of the slightest perceived threat. 

He counted to ten before he replied.

“I don’t have the grades, Sokka. I’d have to go back for academic upgrading. It’s just a hassle I don’t need, and like I said before, it’s not like I need the money. Isn’t that what university is for anyway? Get a degree to get the job? I just skipped the degree.”

He could hear the irritation in his own words. Even after years of schooling his temper he couldn’t have this conversation with his best friend without being an ass. 

Sokka shrugged — and this made Zuko want to bite him. When Sokka shrugged, it was his way of ending a fight before it began. Sokka navigated their fights like the cities he helped plan; seeing the space between them like an urban model and visualizing how the streets zigged and zagged through buildings made up of words exchanged days, months and years before. When he shrugged, it meant he saw the roads leading to dead ends and infrastructure with no place for turn-arounds or rerouting. A dead end wasn’t worth Sokka’s effort, and Zuko knew, it wasn’t worth the pain. 

The rest of the drive passed in tense small talk. Sokka knew Zuko hated small talk, but he defaulted to the tactic as a defence mechanism. It wasn’t that Sokka was overly talkative, but he would rush to fill a space with words to avoid uncomfortable silence. The only thing Sokka hated more than hearing the silence was feeling it. So he talked about nothing — his own kind of armour. 

Zuko was only too relieved to pull up next to the townhouse a few minutes later. For a moment, they sat together in silence. Finally, Sokka mussed one of his brows aggressively with a finger.

“Look Zuko, I don’t want to fight with you about this.” Sokka looks up at him with calculating blue eyes, letting his expression communicate the things he couldn’t put into words. “I just care about you, man. You deserve to let yourself go after what makes you happy.”

Before Zuko could answer, Sokka opened the passenger door and got out, taking the carrier of kittens with him. Zuko would wait until they were older to adopt the grey tabby, but he wanted to keep the kittens together for a few more weeks.

As Sokka walked up to the townhouse, Sokka gave a wave without looking back.  
  
"Don't forget that pack of beer," he called over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat holding tightly to the steering wheel, Zuko couldn't shake the feeling that although Sokka was the one to close the door, he'd been the one to put it there.


	5. Sunny Days in Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, these chapters might seem to be coming together at breakneck speed, but let me assure you it is only because I have miles of notes that I've compiled to plan out this whole story. This fic is basically writing itself at this point.
> 
> Also, comments are love!

There was a reason Vancouver was affectionately nicknamed Raincouver by those who lived in the city — from October through to March, residents would wear their waterproof windbreakers to brave anything from a drizzle to a modest deluge. The die-hard Vancouverites refused to carry an umbrella, resolute in proving their resilience as natives.

Priya didn’t believe in getting soaked through for imaginary cred, she also didn’t believe in walking in the rain when she could instead drive or transit. But, on the rare sunny days like that day in November, she did believe in getting out to soak up the sun as much as possible.

Riding along the seaside, she felt a pleasant shiver travel over her skin as it warmed with the sun. There were few things that could restore her as easily as a bike ride on a sunny day. After the last few weeks she’d had at work, she’d needed it desperately. Every day off felt like a gift. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her job, sometimes she just wished it felt like her job loved her back. Unfortunately, jobs rarely went that way. Still, she took pride in her work, sustaining her motivation through the gratitude of patients who were put in her care. Care was the right word for it, too — because she did care. And she made sure the patients could feel that she did.

On days like today, she took the opportunity to turn that energy inward. Caring for herself was something she’d only recently learned to do, and after a few years of therapy and practicing mindfulness, she’d learned that nothing soothed her quite so well as the feeling of her legs pumping the bike pedals and the warm breeze in her hair as she rode. She’d smile at toddlers who waved as she went by, and sometimes she’d stop to pet a particularly fluffy looking dog. Sometimes she’d ride to her favourite cafe to sit outside and sip a latte while she skimmed headlines on her phone. And on a particularly good day, she’d meet with friends to catch up over lunch or dinner, followed up by a movie night sipping glasses of wine in pajamas. 

As Priya was considering whether her friends would be available for a last minute movie night, she was distracted by the sight of a familiar face; or rather, the tattoo pointing down at the face, as she and the young man she’d seen at the hospital passed each other on the bike path. She craned her neck to make sure she wasn’t the only one slowing down, pulling off to the side of the path when he did the same. He gave her a shy smile and a small wave as he stopped, balancing his bike with one leg on the ground, the other foot still on a pedal.

Dismounting, Priya turned around and walked back a few paces. She did because it was clear he recognized her, which was surprising. There were small armies of nurses working at the VGH, so it seemed unlikely that she’d stand out among them. He, on the other hand, was impossible to miss.

“Hey,” she greeted with a wave of her own, “I’ve seen you around the hospital. You’re new, aren’t you?”

Scratching the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, he nodded. “Yeah, sort of. I’m completing my second level fieldwork for OT. I’m Aang, by the way.”

He held out his hand to her and she took it to shake. 

“Nice to know your name, finally. I’d seen you around.” He didn’t seem surprised at being noticed. Maybe that was the point of his tattoos, or maybe it was an inevitable side effect. She figured it wouldn’t take long to find out. “I’m Priya.”  
  
“Nice to know your name, too. I’ve seen you in the break room a few times. I kept meaning to say hi, but usually I have to run just as you arrive.”

Priya fought the urge to quirk a brow at him. Was he flirting with her? She watched as the same thought seemed to cross his mind, and Aang’s face went bright red.

“Oh, I don’t mean that I was watching you- oh man that’s worse.” He stopped talking to take a deep breath, smiling sheepishly as his shoulders sagged in resignation. “You looked stressed a lot of those times, which is how I’ve been feeling lately. They say misery loves company, and I could use some company, miserable or otherwise. I thought maybe I wasn’t the only one.”

The world didn’t typically equip people with the ability to process raw honesty from a stranger, or maybe that was just Priya’s North American upbringing. Usually when meeting someone for the first time there was a mutual understanding to keep it strictly surface-level; talk about your job title, where you went to school, your relationship status and how you liked to spend your free time. Strangers didn’t usually go straight for the heart of things, but here was this tattooed young man wearing his heart on his sleeve in an invitation for Priya to do the same.

“I looked stressed, huh?” she replied as she held his gaze for a few seconds, giving the kid a chance to back out if he thought making a mockery of her would be an amusing pastime. He held his smile, but it was less sure now. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

Decisively, Priya swung a leg over her bike and smiled.

“Want to get a coffee with me?”

Aang’s shy smile turned blinding as his grey eyes lit up at her invitation.

“I definitely would.”

***

The next thing Priya knew, she was laughing loud and uninhibited with Aang’s own laughter right there with hers. Aang turned out to be easy to talk to, and easier to relate to. They each shared their tales of woe from work, turning stress into humour with sly jokes at the expense of crotchety patients and supervisors. Aang listened sympathetically as Priya ranted about the never-ending laundry list of irritants heaped upon her by Dr. Leoi, and after an hour, their shared misery had turned into a handful of what were sure to become inside jokes. 

Their conversation had started where it left off at Aang’s introduction — straight into their respective reasons for being stressed, and once they’d poured their feelings out to each other, they came full circle, telling each other the necessary surface-level details. Priya found she didn’t mind this order of events. She thought that maybe more people should get to know each other this way; because you didn’t really get to know a person by their job title and hobbies. You got to know a person by learning about how they came to have them, and why they mattered.

“So you must be in your mid-twenties, no?” Priya ventured a guess based on what she already knew. “I remember my twenties. No offence, but I don’t miss them.”

Aang laughs as he shakes his head. “None taken. Just gives me something to look forward to. The guy I’m dating turns thirty next year.”

“He’s robbing the cradle,” Priya jokes with a wink. “Thirty is a good year. I’m thirty-eight, and they’ve all been good years. How long have you been dating?”

“Not long, just since the beginning of my placement. He’s back in Calgary.”

“That sounds like it could be a good start to a relationship, actually. You’re forced to talk to each other that way.”

Aang nodded. “Yeah, it’s been good. And you? Married? Seeing anyone?”

Priya gives a proud little shake of her head. “Nope. Happy and single with no interest to mingle. If the right person comes along, I’m open to it. I’m just not looking right now.”

“Well, cheers to both of us then,” Aang said holding out his empty mug to hers in a toast. “Thanks for inviting me despite how awkward I was.”

Priya laughed again. “Nah, I honestly think we could all stand to be more honest about our feelings. This,” here, Priya waves a hand between them, “wouldn’t have happened without you saying what you did. And thanks to you, I feel loads better.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s nice to be able to laugh about everything, it makes it feel more manageable.”

Priya didn’t really have a mothering instinct to her, but she did have a soft spot for bright underdogs with hearts of gold. 

“Hey, why don’t we catch a movie together if you’re free? I was going to invite a couple friends, and I’m sure they’d love you.”

Just when she thought his smile couldn’t get any wider, Aang proved her wrong. 

“I’m down. Fair warning though, if you were planning on catching the horror movie of the season, I’m out.”

Priya laughs loudly, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound when she hears a baby begin to cry at a nearby table.

“Kids movie it is,” she teases.

“Hey, I’m twenty-five, not fifteen,” Aang mock-glares at her, but the gleam in his eyes says he’s in on the joke.

“Well, we’ll look for all the PG-13 rated movies and let you choose.”

“Yeah, alright. I can live with that.”

With a smirk, Priya pulled out her phone to shoot off a couple texts.


	6. Family

Home was where the heart was, or so they said. For Azula, her heart seemed to live in want of a home since she was eleven. 

After the Accident, as her father referred to it, home became a distant memory that seemed more like a dream. There had been carefree summer vacations spent on soft white sand and in glimmering aquamarine waters. She and her brother would play in imaginary worlds of their own invention, in which Azula always played the queen or the king to her brother’s prince or knave. They had each other and they had their parents. Most importantly, Azula had somewhere she belonged. 

Then the dream shattered, and her family with it. Her father was disgraced, her mother ran away, and Azula found herself handed off to her uncle. The only part of her old life she still had was her brother, but he was nothing more than a ghost of who he had been. He stopped smiling, becoming withdrawn and quiet. No matter how Azula tried, she couldn't get a rise out of him the way she liked to when they were younger. She pitied him then. He’d already lost half his face; the least he could have done was keep his pride. 

_You did this,_ a young had Azula said smoothly. _We would still be a family if it weren’t for you._

Azula thought he might yell. She thought the accusation might make him so angry he would lunge for her. Instead, her brother did nothing. He sat at the dining room table staring blankly out the window like she’d never spoken. Looking back now, she wondered if she’d listened hard enough, she might have heard him shattering too. 

At fourteen, Azula chose to move back in with her father. She hated living with Uncle. At the time she told herself it was because he was too soft and too stupid. Now, she knew it was because his presence only amplified the absence of the person he'd replaced. It wasn’t Uncle who should be waking her up and making her breakfast. It wasn’t his voice she wanted to read her to sleep. But her mother had gone back to Japan, and she’d left her children behind. 

Azula was brought out of her thoughts by the lights coming on in the cabin of the plane, followed by the flight attendant’s voice drifting over the speaker asking passengers to use caution retrieving their bags in the overhead compartments.

It was after midnight, Azula noted, as she walked down the grey-carpeted hall and under the large red letters welcoming her to Calgary. 

It only took a few minutes to retrieve her luggage, and only a few more before she was in a taxi on her way to the downtown apartment she’d rented. 

She hadn’t seen her brother in years. Not since…

Staring down at her screen, she pulled up the number he’d saved to her phone himself.

_“If you ever need anything, I’m just a text or a phone call away.”_

That was three years ago.

_Hi Zuzu, it’s been a long time._

She stared at the text, not knowing what else to say. After a bit of thought, she added:

_I’ve missed you._

It was true, and she hoped that would be enough.


	7. What We All Long For

Aang was in high spirits early that Monday morning for many reasons — his day spent with Priya had buoyed him to new heights, and her friends had been equally wonderful and welcoming. They made him feel like he belonged. 

Secondly, he’d heard from Zuko that the kittens had reached their six-week markers in perfect health. They were eating on their own, and Sokka provided video after video of them climbing all over the furniture and each other, often with Suki giggling in the background. To celebrate, they were all signing on for another game night later, and Aang couldn’t wait.

Currently, he was on his way to Gabrielle’s, and the fact that he was able to leave the confines of the hospital for a few hours didn’t hurt his mood either. The seasonally appropriate rain was back, but Aang’s disposition was all the sun he needed. 

He whistled along to whatever hit was playing on the radio as he pulled up to a nice little brick-faced house on Knight street. He grabbed his tablet for note-taking and pictures along with a VGH-branded tote bag that held the sitz tray he’d promised to bring. Then he pulled his bright orange umbrella out of the backseat and stepped out into the rain to make his way up the walk to Gabrielle’s front door. It was painted a bright cherry red that made the house look like it belonged in a fairy tale rather than the grey city street.

He rang the doorbell and stood back to wait until he heard footsteps from inside, and then the door swung open to reveal Gabrielle’s round face with her curly red hair pulled pack. A fee errant curls bounced free at her neck.

“Aang! Come in, come in,” she said moving aside with a smile. 

Aang left his umbrella outside by the door, and toed off his shoes in the foyer. He was only wearing a light coat, which he kept on.

“How’s Mabel doing?” he asked as Gabrielle led him to the kitchen and poured him a glass of water.

“She’s asleep, thank god. Of course she’d choose to sleep during the day when I need to be awake, but that’s just what babies do.”

Aang chuckled, taking the glass gratefully and following Gabrielle to the living room to sit on the couch. The floor was a mess of half-folded laundry with the odd baby toy laying around.

“Here, this is the tray I was telling you about,” he said as he handed Gabrielle the bag. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Gabrielle scowled a moment, her brows knitting together in consternation as she took a quick look at the bag’s contents before setting it aside.

“I’m holding up alright. I managed to get my surgery booked, but would you like to know how long my wait time is?”

Aang winced visibly, hoping his expression communicated his empathy. He knew what to expect — months of waiting for non-urgent surgery was the norm.

“Eight months, Aang! Eight! It’s absolutely criminal!”

Gabrielle threw her hands in the air in frustration before lowering herself gingerly onto a therapeutic cushion placed on the seat of an armchair.

“I can only imagine how hard that is,” he said honestly. “I’ll make today count. We’ll figure out all the best ways to get your home set up to help minimize your discomfort while you wait.”

Gabrielle only seemed to half-hear him as she continued to talk.

“You know what happened the day little Mabel was born? Doctor Tunde has been my family physician for years. She’s a wonderful doctor. Which is why I was so disappointed that she had to pass me off to the doctor on call that night.”

Aang realized he was going to hear the story whether he intended to or not. He didn’t mind, so he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and sipped his water as he listened.

“To be fair, she did everything she could, but after ten hours and even after induction, I was only a centimetre dilated. Oh lord, was I in pain. I don’t remember it very well, thank god, but I know I was in pain because they had to give me an epidural. Even then, I was in labor for hours. Doctors need to go home some time, I guess, and eventually Doctor Tunde had to go. The doctor who took her place was that awful Mr. Leoi.”

The name set off a little bell of recall in Aang’s memory as he thought back to Priya’s complaints about the same man.

“Have you met him? Awful, terrible bedside manner. I don’t know how that man ever got a job delivering babies.”

Aang shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you’re not missing out, trust me. He came in to check on me, and he was already in a mood. Who knows what for. He was absolutely livid that I’d had an epidural, and I don’t know what he expected, because I’d already been induced and that did nothing. Anyway, hours go by and I’m pushing and yelling, and finally, finally my little baby girl is born. What I didn’t know until it was too late was that he’d gone and made an incision to enlarge the opening of my, well, you know. He never asked me for my consent, Aang. I’m no doctor, so you tell me — that’s against ethical medical practice isn’t it?”

Aang nodded his agreement, not bothering to point out that he wasn’t a doctor either.

“But I couldn’t feel a dang thing from the waist down thanks to the epidural, so I had no idea. I pushed so hard that I nearly tore myself in half. He never told me a thing. Just stitched me up and sent me home the next day. Three days later I wound up in urgent care for how awful I was feeling.”

Aang wasn’t expecting this turn of events. He’d expected to come in and listen to Gabrielle tell a story, complete his assessment and go about the rest of his day.

“Have you reported this?” Aang asked, incredulous. “Does Doctor Tunde know?”

Gabrielle pursed her lips. “I was too flabbergasted to say anything concrete at the time. I know doctors are covered by insurance up the ass. Even if I wanted to go after Doctor Leoi, it would be a long, painful and expensive process where I would only lose time, money and sleep. But the more I think about it, the more I can’t stand just letting this go.”

Aang set down his empty glass.

“You should report him to the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Vancouver,” he said seriously. “If you can get Tunde to confirm everything that happened, you shouldn’t leave this unaddressed. If not for yourself, then for other patients who Doctor Leoi might treat similarly.”

Gabrielle looked at him, quiet for the first time as she considered.

“You know what, Aang? I think I will.”

It was then a high, keening cry crackled over the baby monitor, and Aang helped Gabrielle to her feet to get Mabel from her crib.  
  
***  
  
An hour and a half later, Aang had completed his assessment and interview. He felt strange walking into the hospital, reading doctor’s name tags as they passed him. It wasn’t that he could do anything once he knew who Leoi was, but there was a part of him that needed to put a face to the name. But no matter how many tags he read, none bore the name he was looking for.  
  
Checking his schedule, he made his way to his next meeting. He was nearly late because Gabrielle had taken up much of his time, so he quickly skimmed the patient file as he made his way to the appropriate office. He nearly ran into an oncoming nurser when he read the words: _glioblastoma multiforme._  
  
Brain cancer.  
  
 _Later,_ he told himself as he resumed his trajectory. _I can process this later._  
  
He made his way to the small office to find a woman, not much older than himself, sitting next to an older man with a bandage over the left side of his head. He seemed only half-aware, but he was kindly. He greeted Aang with a gentle handshake and a smile, asking Aang to repeat his name until he was able to say it.   
  
“I’m Gilbert,” he said in a thin voice. “It’s nice to meet you, Aang. This is my daughter, Elizabeth.”  
  
It was the third time he’d introduced himself, but Aang still smiled, shaking Gilbert’s hand again.  
  
Elizabeth looked tired, with dark bruises under her eyes. Undoubtedly from spending restless nights in the hospital over the course of her father’s stay.   
  
Soon, the oncologist came to join them to discuss Gilbert’s results. As Aang listened, he felt his heart sinking deeper in his chest. He could see all of Elizabeth’s blood drain from her face at the diagnosis. _Terminal._  
  
Aang was all too familiar with the outlook: cognitive decline, headaches, loss of appetite, seizures and eventually, death.  
  
Once the oncologist had delivered on his part of the job, he left Aang to complete the follow up interview. He guided a stunned Elizabeth through the questionnaire gently, and after he had all his answers, they agreed on a day for Aang to come in and teach her how to handle her father’s care.  
  
Gilbert was in a wheelchair, so Aang offered to push him out to the pick up area and wait with him while Elizabeth brought her car around. He helped Gilbert into the passenger seat and waved them off. It was only once they were out of sight, and Aang had his back to the hospital entrance and a moment of quiet, that he blinked away the wetness in his eyes. He took a deep breath and held out his hands to look at the arrow tattoos.  
  
 _This is why I’m here,_ he reminded himself gently. _Because I can make a difference._  
  
It didn’t mean he could stop people from dying. It didn’t mean he could heal all the broken hearts of the loved ones-turned-caretakers. But it did mean he could be there to make it easier. He could be there so they didn’t have to feel alone.  
  
Because, Aang thought, being alone was surely the greatest and most terrifying tragedy of all. 


End file.
